


just enough to know it's there

by spaceland



Category: South Park
Genre: Character Study, kenny mccormick is the bestest boy and i would risk it all for him, spoilers for s22e5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 13:01:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16493114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceland/pseuds/spaceland
Summary: "You're a good kid, Kenny. I always thought so."a little story about the power of encouragement.





	just enough to know it's there

**Author's Note:**

> just my interpretation of the scene between kenny and mr mackey from the new episode

“You’re a good kid, Kenny. I always thought so.” Mackey had said, his voice low and thoughtful despite the chaos raging outside. He’d turned to Kenny then, the features of his face sincere as he continued. “I know we kind of all forget about you sometimes, but you’re smart and compassionate. You might even make a good counselor someday.”

Kenny had blinked up at him, his chest filled with something foreign. Maybe, for the first time in his life, he’d felt hopeful, a sense of purpose. He’d thought about those words all night, the unfamiliar, yet comforting warmth blocking even the chill of a mid-autumn’s night in Colorado. Kenny had returned to the streets of South Park feeling refreshed, practically emanating happiness as he’d met back up with his friends.

“This fucking sucks,” Cartman had glared at him, as though he knew Kenny had something to do with the town wide disconnect. “Of course, though, the poor boy’s happy about it because  _ he  _ doesn’t have a phone.” Not even the accusatory glares of his friends could take that warmth from him.

For the first time in his entire life, someone had acknowledged Kenny.

It was just as Mackey had said, after all. He was the poor kid of South Park, seen only by those closest to him. Of course, being a tangible, physical being obviously meant that people could see him. A lot of them, though, chose not to. The poor McCormick boy, son of those lowlife druggies, with constant whispers and looks of pity thrown his way. People pretended not to notice him. It made them feel better about themselves. He knew that. Whether it was intentional or not, it was a bias he had accepted long ago, even with his own friends. 

Maybe it had to do with his constant deaths, or the fact that he had a home life no child should ever have to endure, but Kenny felt as though he was years beyond his age. Maybe that’s why, despite being so young, despite having his entire life ahead of him, he’d accepted his defeat prematurely. In a town like this, people form their opinions of others pretty early on in life, and Kenny was well-aware where he stood. No one expected him to get out of this town, to make something of himself. Kevin was going on fourteen, and surely hadn’t done anything to improve the name of the McCormick kids, doing god knows what behind the school after hours. Kenny and Karen weren’t like him, weren’t like their parents. But it didn’t matter, they had been deemed to fail all the same.   


He tried to fight it. He really did. But somewhere along the line, Kenny started believing them. 

But then someone had finally looked at him, had really  _ seen _ him. He wasn’t Kenny the poor kid, or the son of white trash. He was smart, and compassionate and had the potential to be  _ good  _ at something.

To anyone else, Mackey’s words just seemed like the average compliment. The kind of thing parents say to their kids all the time. You’re smart, you can do it, those kinds of things. The adults in South Park were all pretty fucked up, but at the end of the day, they believed in their kids, had hope for their futures, and did their best to nurture that potential--with the exception of a few. Kenny had never been able to share that feeling. Until now.

And sure, maybe Mackey was just some wack elementary school counselor. Truthfully, he didn’t mean much to Kenny. It wasn’t like he’d been acknowledged by someone incredibly special to him, or important in general. But another person had seen something in him and planted that seed of hope. He wants to run with it, cherish it, and nurture it until it blooms into something beautiful.

He sits on the edge of his bed now, looking into his small pail of Halloween candy. It isn’t much, definitely not as much as he’s gotten in the past, but it doesn’t faze him. He’ll take what he can get. 

“A counselor, huh?” He murmurs to himself, a small smile playing at his lips. “Never thought of that.”

Counselors helped people, right? They guided lost kids and showed them the way, kids like Kenny, with traumatic home lives and truths that no one believed, with hearts full of gold corroded by doubt.

Yeah, he wants to help those kids. He wants to be that person who believes in the kid no one else does, wants to help them reach their full potential. For the first time, Kenny is thankful for his immortality. He has a goal and he’ll go through hell to achieve it. If it means he can help someone in need, a child in the future who, like him, so desperately needs to be believed in… well then, he thinks that’s worth dying a hundred times for.

His computer dings and he gets up slowly, unwrapping a giant crunch bar, his prized possession from the night. It’s the guys. They’re sending pictures of their haul, all three having far more than Kenny, and Kenny tells them so. Kyle and Stan are talking amongst themselves, of course, even in a group chat. Cartman is, as usual, being obnoxious, sending messages like, “lol Kenny that’s what you get for being poor” and, “better hang onto that, it’s your food for the next 6 months.”

Kenny shrugs it off, the smile never leaving his face. He might not have gotten a lot of candy, and he might not have gotten to ride those stupid scooters, but he’s gained something irreplaceable, something that no one can take away from him.

A purpose. A future. Hope.


End file.
